Recherche
by sweetness328
Summary: Jack learns there are some things more precious than even the finest jewels. - Sparrabeth -
1. Chapter 1

**This story is fondly dedicated to my incredible beta Michelle (Princess of the Pearl), who is celebrating her birthday this weekend, with much thanks for all of her assistance. Happy birthday, love! Jack and I are sending you some rum and cake. :)**

**This fic takes place a little over a year after AWE. After saying goodbye to Will, Elizabeth decided to stay with Jack on the _Black Pearl _to learn the ropes of pirating, so to speak. Jack and Liz have grown close after spending so much time together, but no romance...yet.**

**I own nothing. All things Pirates of the Caribbean belong to Disney. The Portly Villager is a great little pub near where I live that serves awesome sandwiches and beer. :)**

Pale moonlight illuminated the small room as two figures slid noiselessly through the window.

"Are you certain it's even here, Jack?" Elizabeth whispered, dusting herself off.

"Of course I'm certain," Jack assured her, not bothering to lower his voice.

Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly, and Jack, seeing her alarm, grinned lazily. "Not to worry, love. Anyone who's around to hear us is more occupied with…_other_ matters, and Gibbs has strict orders to ply Leighton with plenty of rum."

Elizabeth shivered, remembering how Leighton's lecherous stare the previous evening had made her skin crawl. She, Jack, and the rest of the _Black Pearl's _crew had been enjoying rum and cards at The Faithful Bride when Jacob Leighton had entered and made himself known. The man obviously loved to brag, and the more rum he consumed, the looser his tongue became. He informed everyone who would listen that his ship had attacked a vessel bearing gold and jewels meant for the King of Spain himself, including a priceless diamond-and-ruby tiara that had been specially commissioned for the Queen.

"I insisted, of course, that since I was captain, the tiara should be mine, along with my fair share of the gold," Leighton announced. "I figured if I could sell that gorgeous little crown, I'd be the richest man in the Caribbean. But my crew - those ungrateful wretches - started yammering that I'd taken too much from them over the years and that the shares should be divided equally. They tossed me overboard, but not before I grabbed the tiara." He laughed loudly and looked around as though he expected applause.

Elizabeth glanced over at Jack in time to see the corners of his mouth turn downward as he muttered, "Bloody mutiny" into his rum.

Elizabeth snorted. "You can hardly blame them, if they've had to endure _his _company for years."

Jack looked over at Leighton, who was describing the tiara in more detail, his chest puffed out like a peacock's. "Maybe you're right," he admitted, draining the last of his rum and signaling to the barkeep for another.

Elizabeth jumped in surprise as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. "Whatever he's paying you, I'll double it," Leighton offered, gesturing toward Jack. "I deserve some pleasurable company tonight." His gaze traveled the length of Elizabeth's body from head to toe. She seemed to meet his approval, for his grin widened.

"She's not for sale," Jack replied, tilting his chair back and resting his booted feet on the table.

"Says who?" Leighton asked, frowning.

"_I _say." Jack smiled easily, but Elizabeth knew him well enough to recognize the menace in his eyes.

Shrugging Leighton's hand off her shoulder, Elizabeth swiftly jabbed her elbow into his stomach. He wheezed as he stumbled backward. In an instant, Elizabeth was on her feet, her sword drawn. "Perhaps you'd better find someone else to keep you company tonight," she said venomously, the tip of her blade kissing his throat.

Leighton backed toward the door, his eyes narrowed. "We'll meet again, wench," he spat furiously. "Count on that."

When he was gone, Elizabeth sank down in her chair, her nerves still taut.

"You all right, love?" Jack asked.

"Bloody bastard," Elizabeth muttered.

Now they were in Leighton's room at The Portly Villager, one of the more expensive inns in Tortuga, searching for the aforementioned tiara, while Gibbs kept him distracted downstairs.

"I've met men like that before," Jack said as he began opening drawers and peering into them. "They can't keep a secret to save their own skin, especially when it comes to the pretty little prizes they've plundered…like this," he concluded, lifting something out of the bottom drawer.

Elizabeth felt her breath catch in her throat as she stared in awe at the object in Jack's hands. The moonlight set the rubies ablaze, and the diamonds glittered with a cold white brilliance. _Like fire and ice, _she thought. "It's beautiful," she remarked, running a hand over the ornate design.

"Aye," Jack agreed, tucking the tiara under his hat. "It's sure to fetch us a nice sum once we find a place to sell it."

Suddenly the floorboards in the hallway creaked, and they could hear footsteps approaching the room. Elizabeth barely had time to react before Jack had seized her by the wrist and yanked her into the tiny closet with him, just before a key clicked in the lock and the door swung open. The closet was stiflingly hot, and so small that Elizabeth was pressed up against Jack's chest. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was sure he could feel it. A sliver of moonlight shone through the crack in the door, and Elizabeth could see a flash of gold in the semidarkness as Jack gave her another lazy grin. _He's enjoying every minute of this! _she realized. Somehow, though, the thought didn't surprise her.

They could hear Leighton drunkenly stumbling and muttering to himself. Elizabeth uttered a silent prayer that he would leave or fall asleep before discovering that the tiara was missing. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the door closed and the room beyond was silent.

Elizabeth waited a bit before easing the closet door open and stepping out, gratefully breathing in the cooler air. Before Jack could join her, however, the door to the hallway crashed open. Elizabeth froze as Leighton's eyes came to rest on her. She took a step backward as he came toward her, a nasty gleam in his eye.

"Well, what have we here?" He leered at her. "Must be my wildest dream come true."

"No," came Jack's voice, and Elizabeth heard the sound of a pistol being cocked over her right shoulder, "more like your worst nightmare, mate." Elizabeth felt the warm, reassuring pressure of Jack's hand against the small of her back as he came forward, his pistol still aimed at Leighton.

"You again," Leighton growled. "This is no business of yours."

"I'm making it my business," Jack stated flatly.

Leighton blinked and looked around, as if he'd suddenly discovered where he was. "I knew someone was in my room," he said wonderingly, almost as if he were talking to himself. "That's why I came back." He blinked again and focused on Elizabeth and Jack. "The tiara!" he cried, enraged. "You stole my tiara!"

"Wasn't yours to begin with," Jack retorted, as he gently eased Elizabeth in a wide circle around Leighton, all the while keeping the pistol aimed steadily. As they reached the doorway, Jack grabbed a chair and dragged it out into the hallway. He slammed the door shut and propped the chair under the doorknob. The door immediately shook as Leighton rained angry blows on it from the other side.

"Come on, love," Jack said, taking Elizabeth by the elbow and propelling her toward the stairs. "That'll only hold for a little while."

The pair dashed down the stairs and pushed their way through the crowd to the door. Once outside, they raced toward the docks as if the devil were on their heels. Gibbs was waiting for them at the gangplank.

"I'm sorry, Cap'n. I tried to stop him – "

"Forget it," Jack cut him off with a curt nod. "Let's go."

Once they were aboard, the mooring lines were cut, and the _Black Pearl _drifted silently out of the harbor. Elizabeth sank onto the deck, her back against a cannon, and breathed deeply, wiping the perspiration from her brow. Jack plopped down next to her, uncorking a bottle of rum with his teeth. He raised the bottle toward the heavens in a toast. "To Elizabeth Swann, the finest co-conspirator in the Caribbean," he declared, taking a long swig before passing the bottle to her.

Elizabeth accepted it and drank deeply, still trying to calm her racing heart. She passed the bottle back to him and gave him a sidelong glance. "Is it all always just a game to you, Jack?"

Jack leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Don't know what you mean, love."

"Life and death," Elizabeth said, scrutinizing his face. "What if he'd had his own weapon? What would you have done then?"

"I would've figured a way out," Jack replied confidently. He flashed her a cocky grin. "I'm Cap'n Jack Sparrow."

"Damn it, Jack!" Elizabeth shouted, suddenly furious. "Be serious for once! Death isn't something to be taken lightly."

"No, it's not," Jack agreed, his expression suddenly somber. "I should know."

Elizabeth felt her anger drain away then, and the guilt she still carried deep inside trying to fight its way to the surface. "Oh, Jack, I'm sorry."

Jack dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand. "It's all in the past now." He turned to face her, and Elizabeth couldn't remember him ever looking so serious. "I'm going to tell you something, Lizzie, and I want you to listen to me very carefully. If you're going to be a pirate, you're going to have to learn that death is a certainty. That's not to say that one welcomes it with open arms, mind you…I'm living proof of that." He gave her a crooked smile.

"It may seem to you that I treat every precarious situation as a lark, but I am always mindful of the consequences of my actions, and I am _always _mindful of how my actions affect my adversary. The more I smile, the more uneasy they become, and they begin to believe that I must have an advantage, savvy?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"In time, you'll come to see what I mean. You'll be able to read your opponent and see how best to gain the upper hand." Jack tipped the bottle again, taking a few long swallows of rum. "So in answer to your earlier question, no, it's not just a game to me."

Elizabeth was silent for a long moment before asking her next question. "Do you fear death?"

Jack shuddered, the memory of Davy Jones' voice and his not-so-distant past making him feel cold all over. That voice still haunted his most disturbing dreams; there were nights when he awoke soaked with sweat, convinced he was back in the Locker…

Elizabeth was waiting for his answer.

Jack swallowed and looked over at her. "You've no idea."


	2. Chapter 2

_Two months later…_

Elizabeth watched as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. She sighed, a feeling of deep contentment enveloping her like a warm blanket. Her time at sea had given her a new appreciation for things she'd previously taken for granted, such as simply watching the sun set on another day.

"Bored?" came Jack's voice beside her. Elizabeth jumped slightly; she hadn't even heard him approach.

"Never." She took the bottle of rum he handed her and smiled.

It had become a nightly ritual with them, always beginning with those two words. They would share a bottle of rum and discuss every topic under the sun, from religion to their fondest wishes and desires. Elizabeth never dreamed she'd share the secrets of her heart with Jack Sparrow, but she found herself confiding in him night after night things she hadn't even told Will. She often felt, however, that Jack sometimes held back, as if there were things he didn't want to divulge.

Taking a generous swallow of rum, Jack regarded her with interest. "Now, then, what's to be the subject of tonight's discourse?"

"Love," Elizabeth responded automatically.

Jack blinked, nonplussed. "Love?" he repeated slowly, as if it were a new word he was trying out for the first time.

Elizabeth nearly groaned aloud. _What on earth made me say that? _But she knew. Of all the things she and Jack had spoken freely of, love was not one of them. Whenever she broached the subject, even if only in reference to her past with Will, Jack managed to skirt around it, and Elizabeth found herself wondering why. _Oh, why should I even care? _She thought to herself. _It's not as if –_

Jack cleared his throat in an exaggerated fashion, startling her out of her thoughts. "Darling, I'm feeling a mite tired at the moment. Perhaps we can continue this – "

"What are you afraid of, Jack?" Elizabeth interrupted.

Jack's eyes widened slightly. "Me? Afraid? Don't be absurd."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she leaned closer. "Yes, _you. _You've always avoided talking about it. Why?"

Jack sighed. "I hate to disappoint you, love, but there's no great mystery here. I don't avoid talking about love so much as I avoid it altogether." He wrinkled his nose. "Terrible thing. Makes even the most steadfast of sailors do…" He frowned and waved the rum bottle wildly. "…_funny _things."

Elizabeth smirked. "I see. And has it ever made you do funny things?"

Jack handed the rum back to her and clasped his hands behind his head. "I always do funny things."

Elizabeth tilted the bottle and gulped down a few fiery mouthfuls. "Have you ever been in love, Captain Sparrow?" she asked playfully.

Jack stared at her a long moment before turning toward the sea. "No."

Perhaps it was the rum, but Elizabeth was feeling bolder than usual. She moved a bit closer, until her face was mere inches from his. "Are you sure?"

Jack could see Elizabeth's lips out of the corner of his eye. His throat suddenly felt bone dry. The conversation was taking a dangerous turn, he decided. He needed to turn the tables on her, _tout de suite. _He swiveled his head in her direction, almost brushing her lips with his own. "Did you have someone in particular in mind?" he purred.

Elizabeth drew back slightly and shifted uncomfortably.

Jack smiled.

"Cap'n!" Gibbs shouted. "Come look at this!"

With a courtly bow to Elizabeth, Jack hurried over to where Gibbs was standing at the helm. "A ship," Gibbs said, handing him the spyglass.

"Colors?"

"She's a merchant ship, sir, and a small one at that."

Raising the glass to his eye, Jack could see there was indeed a rather small ship floating about a quarter of a mile away off the starboard side of the _Pearl. _ "Excellent." He closed the glass with a snap and handed it back to his first mate. "Round up the rest of the crew. We should be able to board her without difficulty."

"Aye, Cap'n," Gibbs replied as he began shouting orders to various crewmen.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, coming to stand beside him.

Jack grinned. "Ready to do some honest pirating?"


	3. Chapter 3

As the _Black Pearl _drew abreast of the ship, the lettering on the bow became visible: _Esperanza. _When they were close enough, the anchor was dropped and a plank was laid across the short distance between the two ships.

"Elizabeth and I will go first," Jack announced to the crewmen gathered in a semicircle on the deck. "The rest of you will follow when I give the signal."

The crewmen nodded, and Elizabeth and Jack cautiously boarded the _Esperanza. _Jack frowned as they stood on the empty deck and looked around.

"No one on watch," Jack muttered. "Strange."

Elizabeth noticed the fingers of his right hand creeping toward the hilt of his sword as his eyes darted left and right.

"Too quiet." Jack edged closer to the captain's cabin, Elizabeth close behind. "Much too quiet."

"Shall we signal for the rest of the crew?" Elizabeth asked worriedly.

"Nonsense." Jack flashed her a grin, the devil-may-care attitude she simultaneously admired and detested clearly evident. "Nothing ol' Jack can't handle."

He eased the cabin door open and peered inside, indicating that Elizabeth should stay behind him. A desk sat in the center of the room, a single oil lamp burning next to a ledger of some sort. There wasn't much else in the way of furniture, save for a chair behind the desk and another against the far wall. Jack could see no one in the dim, flickering light.

He stepped silently into the room. Elizabeth followed, glancing about curiously. "There's no one here," she whispered.

Jack regarded her solemnly. "Maybe not in this room," he said in a hushed voice, "but there is someone on this ship. It's much too quiet," he repeated softly, and now Elizabeth understood what he meant. There was an awful stillness in the air, an eerie silence that belied the peaceful twilight.

Jack saw comprehension dawn on Elizabeth's face, and he nodded. "Sometimes it's what you _can't _hear…" He gestured toward the doorway. "We'll alert the crew, have them search the ship."

Elizabeth turned, preparing to leave, when a large, shadowy figure blocked her way. As the figure stepped into the light, she was able to see his face more clearly and was unable to contain her gasp of surprise. Jacob Leighton grinned down at her maniacally.

Before Elizabeth had a chance to react, Leighton wrapped an arm around her throat and turned her to face Jack. With his other hand, he brandished a pistol and placed it against Elizabeth's temple.

"Fancy meeting you here," Jack said, leaning back against the desk, his legs crossed at the ankles. Despite his casual pose, however, the horrifying spectacle of the gun pressed to Elizabeth's head rattled him more than he cared to admit to himself, and certainly more than he wanted to let on to Leighton. "Where's the rest of the crew?"

"Dead," Leighton said without a trace of remorse. "They just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time – namely, in my way. Where's my tiara?"

"It's in my cabin, over on my ship," Jack replied, not missing a beat. "Why don't we go and get it?"

"Not a chance, Sparrow." Leighton's grin widened at the look of surprise that passed briefly over Jack's face. "Oh, I know who you are. I asked a lot of questions after you ran off with my property. Found out your name, where you were heading, and" – his eyes flicked down to Elizabeth – "a little bit of your _history._"

Jack preened. "Yes, well, I am quite famous around these parts."

"_In_famous is more like it," Leighton corrected him, suddenly losing his smile. "There are a lot of people who want you dead, and they were more than happy to offer me information for a very reasonable price. For example, I happen to know that you sold the tiara."

Jack grimaced.

"That means you lied to me," Leighton continued, his arm tightening around Elizabeth's neck. She clutched convulsively at his arm, beginning to gasp for air. "I don't like liars."

Jack's cool veneer began to crack. "What is it you want?" he demanded.

Leighton shrugged with feigned nonchalance. "You took something from me, so I'm going to take something from you."

"And what exactly do you plan on taking?"

Leighton caressed the side of Elizabeth's face with the muzzle of the gun, his expression thoughtful. Elizabeth cringed.

"How much is she worth to you, hmm? Elizabeth Swann, the woman who was elected Pirate King by _you, _the woman _you _insisted was not for sale?"

Jack forced what he hoped was a carefree smile. "She's just a woman, mate – one who just so happens to cross my path more often than not."

"Just a woman, eh?" Leighton sneered. "Not a friend…or perhaps a _lover_?"

Jack met Elizabeth's eyes for the briefest of moments, and he couldn't decide whether the delicate shade of pink coloring her cheeks was from Leighton's insinuation or the viselike grip on her throat.

"Hardly," he snorted, addressing Leighton once more. "The girl's probably still a virgin."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, and Jack was sure she would have slapped him, had they not been in this unfortunate predicament.

Leighton watched him carefully, not fooled. "I don't believe you." He cocked the pistol.

Jack licked his lips nervously, his smile slipping a notch. "It's the truth. She's been nothing but trouble from the moment I met her."

Elizabeth pursed her lips and frowned at him.

The sound of footsteps pounding on the deck caused Leighton to jerk his head toward the door, the pistol momentarily slipping away from its target.

Jack charged forward, sword drawn, and knocked the weapon from Leighton's grip with a blow to his wrist.

Leighton roared in pain and flung Elizabeth against the wall. He ducked Jack's next thrust and managed to kick the door shut and latch it. Then he drew his own sword and faced Jack. They circled each other, ignoring the pounding on the door.

"Jack!" Gibbs' voice called from the other side of the door. "Jack, are you all right?"

Jack grinned fiendishly at his foe. "No shame in losing, mate."

"I don't plan to lose," Leighton snarled. Without warning, he dropped to the floor. Jack, preparing to attack, froze when Leighton straightened and he saw the pistol glinting in his hand.

In the blink of an eye, Leighton turned toward where Elizabeth was huddled against the wall, still trying to catch her breath. Jack lunged forward desperately, but he was a fraction of a second too late. The thunderous crack of the gunshot was deafening in the small cabin. Before Jack could even begin to comprehend what had happened, Elizabeth collapsed to the floor.

_No…no…no…no…no… _The mantra echoed through Jack's mind endlessly. For a moment, he was back on the _Flying Dutchman, _Elizabeth's shrill cries ringing mercilessly in his ears as he watched Will's life drain away in a dark red pool. He slowly raised his eyes. Leighton was chuckling quietly and staring at Elizabeth's still form. Without a second thought, Jack yanked his own pistol from his belt and aimed it at Leighton's heart. Leighton's head snapped toward Jack, and he tried to raise his own gun, but wasn't quite quick enough. A second gunshot rang out, and Jack's aim was true. A choked gurgling sound emitted from Leighton's throat as he fell to the floor.

Jack hurried to Elizabeth's side and knelt to check her condition. She was unconscious. The entire right side of her shirt was soaked with blood, and her neck was a mottled red from Leighton's vicious grasp. Jack placed his hand under her nose. _Still breathing, _he thought with relief.

The pounding on the door increased in intensity. Jack rose to his feet and reached the door in two long strides, quickly unlatching and opening it. "Leighton is dead," Jack said before Gibbs could speak. "Elizabeth has been shot."

Gibbs stared incredulously. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"Move her to my cabin," Jack continued frantically.

"What – "

"_Now!_" Jack bellowed.

Gibbs jumped nearly a foot in the air, but recovered quickly and began to give orders to the rest of the men.

Jack returned to the spot where Elizabeth lay and brushed the hair from her face in an uncharacteristically tender gesture. He recalled his own words to her the night they had stolen the tiara. "_If you're going to be a pirate, you're going to have to learn that death is a certainty." _His fists clenched as he watched her chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. _Not now, _he thought. _Not for her. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to all those who reviewed so far…your kind words are much appreciated.**__

Jack jerked awake with a gasp, the remnants of a disturbing dream slowly dissipating as he tried to recall what had startled him so. The dream hadn't been about the Locker for once; it had been about…

Jack's gaze came to rest on Elizabeth's face, ghostly pale against the deep burgundy pillows. It was then that reality reclaimed its ferocious grip on him. The events of the past few hours came back to him in grisly flashes: Gibbs and Cotton carrying Elizabeth back to the _Pearl _on a makeshift stretcher, Cotton digging the bullet out of Elizabeth's side and carefully stitching the wound, Gibbs hastily carrying away blood-soaked linens.

Gibbs' voice came back to Jack then, hoarse with sorrow: _"She's lost a lot of blood, Jack. She may not make it through the night."_

Jack had simply nodded, head bowed, eyes closed. He missed the significant look that passed between Gibbs and Cotton as they left the cabin and quietly shut the door. He had no idea how much time had passed since, but he sensed that dawn was still a long way off.

Jack took Elizabeth's hand in his own, despairing at how cold and clammy her delicate skin felt to the touch. An image of the _Flying Dutchman's _captain flitted through his mind, and he struggled to discern why he would be thinking of Will Turner at a time like this. _Wouldn't dear William seize an opportunity such as this, _a wicked little voice in his mind whispered tauntingly, _to have his beloved bride at his side for all eternity?_

_ Will would never wish for Elizabeth's untimely demise, _Jack admonished the voice. _He's a good man…_

_ "I always knew you were a good man," _Elizabeth's words rang in his head, and he could envision her clearly, brave and strong, grim but determined, on the deck of the _Pearl, _just before the kiss that had sealed his fate. Jack's mind whirled as he remembered the feel of Elizabeth's lips on his, the taste of her, that, unbeknownst to her, he'd longed for ever since. Was it only this evening that she'd tried to beguile him into delving into the complex matter of love? He'd had the chance to kiss her then, he was certain, but he'd turned his nose up at it, his blasted pride holding him back.

This time it was his father's words he heard. _"All well and good to be proud of yourself, Jackie, but in abundance, pride can be a deadly thing." _Jack had rarely heeded Teague's advice, but now the memory of those words felt like a crushing blow. Elizabeth had suggested alerting the crew, and what had been his response? _"Nothing ol' Jack can't handle." _He'd practically delivered her into the hands of a madman who had no regard for human life.

"I've failed you," Jack whispered morosely, squeezing Elizabeth's hand helplessly. "If I had it to do over again, if there was a way…" _Then what? _He asked himself. _Would I gamble it all for her, put her life before my own? _

_Yes, _he answered himself almost immediately. He'd once risked the hangman's noose to save Elizabeth from the depths of the Caribbean, and then without having known her at all. In this hour of misery, where Elizabeth hovered between life and death, the time had come for honesty – raw, brutal honesty, the kind that Jack Sparrow unfailingly tried to avoid at all costs. Elizabeth had become a permanent part of his life, part of his soul. Jack wasn't entirely sure what love truly felt like, but he imagined valuing another's life before one's own spoke volumes.

_I can't bear to lose her, _he realized, reaching up to touch the silky golden hair spread across the pillows. He felt as if he'd discovered an exquisite treasure, only to have it cruelly snatched from his grasp. Jack laid Elizabeth's hand gently on the bed and slid off his chair. Kneeling by the side of the bed, he folded his hands and closed his eyes. Jack had never been a Christian man, but he was suddenly struck with a feverish impulse to pray.

_Dear Lord, _he recited silently, _By no means have I lived my life by the cross, and I do hope You'll forgive my past transgressions, because I am asking for Your help now. _

Jack paused and opened his eyes, glancing upward, calculating the odds that the pleas of a worthless pirate would reach God's ears. He took a deep breath and began again.

_Elizabeth is sweet and kind; she doesn't deserve this fate. Please spare her life, please don't… _Jack's throat felt tight, and he was having difficulty swallowing. _Please don't take her from me. I know I made my deal with the devil in the past, and certainly one doesn't strike such bargains with Christ, but perhaps we can come to an accord of some sort. I will no longer plunder and pillage – _Jack shook his head and sighed. _Best not to make false promises. _

_I guarantee that I will endeavor, to the best of my ability, to make Elizabeth happy for the rest of her days and take care of her, if you'll spare her. _

Satisfied with his prayer, Jack eased himself back into the chair and clasped Elizabeth's hand. "Stay with me, Lizzie," he pleaded, hoping she would hear his words. "Please." But Elizabeth lay silent and unmoving, her eyes closed to the world.


	5. Chapter 5

**Special thanks to my beta Michelle for her help with this difficult chapter. **

Elizabeth wandered dreamily through a fog so thick she could almost feel it pressing in on her from all angles. Turning her head from side to side, she strained to see through the smoky haze, but her efforts were futile. She continued to walk, though fear rose within her as she realized she could not place her whereabouts, nor did she know how she had come to be in this strange place.

Without warning, the mist cleared, and Elizabeth caught a glimpse of a familiar and beloved face. "Will!" she cried, rushing toward him. She felt his arms wrap around her, and she clung to him desperately, burying her face in his shoulder. "I was so frightened," she moaned, pulling back to see his face. "Where are we? Are we on the _Flying Dutchman_?"

"Come, sit with me for a while," Will replied. Elizabeth glanced about and noticed they were standing next to a small stream, the tranquil flow of water soothing and musical. She was confused, but allowed Will to lead her over to a large, flat rock surrounded by wildflowers.

They sat side by side, and Will gazed at her for a long moment without speaking. "You're so beautiful," he said softly, his lips curving in a wistful smile. "You're as exquisite as you were the day we said goodbye."

Though flattered by his compliment, Elizabeth could not quell a growing sense of disquiet. "Will, what is this place?"

Sorrow touched his features then, and Elizabeth began to tremble. "We are between worlds, Elizabeth."

"I don't understand."

Will swallowed thickly. "A place between the living and the dead."

Elizabeth's trembling became violent as the memory struck her like a bolt of lightning, and she squeezed her eyes shut as if to banish the horrible images from her mind. She recalled with gruesome clarity Leighton's dark eyes glittering coldly in the lamplight as he aimed his pistol, the sharp report and the searing pain in her side as the bullet met its mark, and Jack's stricken face, frozen in mute horror, before everything had gone black.

"Am I…am I dead?" she stammered, apprehensive of his response.

"No." Will smiled faintly, smoothing her hair, his touch gentle and reassuring. His smile faded, however, as his gaze lowered to her right side. "Not yet," he whispered, as though fearful that whoever decided such matters might overhear.

Elizabeth looked down and saw a deep red stain seeping through her shirt. She gasped and automatically pressed her hands over the wound, though, curiously enough, she felt no pain.

Will shook his head and pulled her hands away, holding them in his lap. "Your physical body is not here," he said, trying to calm her hysteria. "The bullet has already been removed, and the wound stitched."

Elizabeth frowned. "How do you know this?"

Will turned away. "I…" his voice faltered momentarily. "Because of my position, I am privy to certain information."

"Your position…ferrying the souls of the dead?"

Will nodded.

"But if I'm not dead, then why are you here?" Elizabeth wondered.

"I was permitted to meet you halfway, so to speak," Will explained. "You were lost and afraid, so I came to ease your distress."

Elizabeth put a hand to her forehead, puzzling over what Will had said. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she stared at Will, her eyes huge. "Am I to stay with you?"

Once more, Will averted his gaze. "That's not for me to decide," he replied quietly.

Elizabeth eyed him warily. "That burden falls on me, I suppose?"

Will met her eyes, his expression grim. "Yes."

The full magnitude of the situation felt like a leaden weight on Elizabeth's shoulders. _How do I choose between my husband and my life?_

Will was watching her closely. "We still have one day every ten years," he said, as if reading her thoughts. He pulled her closer, brushing her cheek. "You've no idea how much I long for that one day," he murmured into her hair. He leaned back suddenly, grasping her shoulders, and the pain on his face was so apparent that Elizabeth felt tears welling in her eyes. "But I'm not that selfish, Elizabeth."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked softly, though she knew in her heart what he was trying to say.

"You're my wife, the only woman I've ever loved, but I can't bear for your life to end so soon." A tear trickled down his cheek, and Elizabeth reached up to brush it away. "It would be a dreadful shame to deprive the world of your beauty and grace."

Elizabeth wept, deeply touched by his words. "But – "

"Shhh." Will kissed her briefly and gave her a sad smile. "We married impetuously, Elizabeth. There was a battle to be fought, and although we won, the outcome was one that neither of us could have predicted. The vows we made then, though noble and sincere in that one glorious moment, have become foolhardy promises in the aftermath. You deserve more than lonely years of waiting, of being bound forever to a heart that must be kept under lock and key." His eyes focused fleetingly on a point somewhere over her shoulder, and he sighed.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, concerned.

"There is another man who loves you, as much as a man who has never known love can."

"Who – " Elizabeth began, but the answer came to her before she could even finish her question. "Jack," she whispered, closing her eyes. She was both stunned and enchanted by the revelation. His cockiness and self-assurance vexed her, to be sure, and whenever his sensuous lips parted in the arrogant smirk he wore so well, Elizabeth swore he was the devil incarnate. Those very same things, however, drew her to him, as well as his embodiment of everything she'd yearned to wholeheartedly embrace since she was a child – her love of the sea, adventure…freedom.

"Yes," Will said, squeezing her hand. "He blames himself. He feels it's his fault you were shot. But it's not such a terrible thing, for the grievous nature of your injury has forced him to acknowledge the depth of his feelings for you."

Elizabeth shook her head weakly, feeling peculiar at having her husband discuss another man's love for her. "Will – "

"I won't pretend it doesn't hurt," Will interrupted. "It hurts more than having to bid you farewell all over again, knowing I won't see you for nine long years. But I've come to terms with my new life and my duties, and I've come to realize that once every decade is better than nothing at all." His eyes softened. "When that one day comes, every hour I get to spend with you is truly a gift, and if it weren't for Jack, I wouldn't even have that. He could have seized the chance at immortality he so obviously desired and stabbed the heart himself, but he chose to save me instead. For that, I will always be grateful."

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes far away. "He had a chance to do the right thing."

Will hugged her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And now I have a chance to do the right thing. Live, Elizabeth. If I can enjoy the pleasure of your company for a few precious hours every decade, that will be enough for me."

"Of course," Elizabeth whispered, her eyes damp.

"And someday, far in the future, when you draw your last breath, I will be honored to take the helm on your final voyage." Will stood and reached out a hand to help her up.

"Will I remember all of this?" Elizabeth asked, reluctant to let go of him.

A shadow crossed Will's face. "I don't know." His image began to fade, and Elizabeth felt fresh tears fill her eyes.

"Goodbye," she whispered, feeling his fingers slip from hers. If he answered, she didn't hear. The stream, the rock, the flowers, even the mist gradually dissolved, until there was nothing but darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the slight delay in posting this chapter. Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far for sticking with me!**

Jack cautiously opened one eye and attempted to gauge where exactly he was. The spot where his cheek rested was warm and soft. He sat up, his stiff back and neck groaning in protest, and realized he had fallen asleep with his head in Elizabeth's lap. He couldn't even remember nodding off to begin with. He'd been determined to stay awake through the night and watch over Elizabeth in the event she should awaken or – and he was loath to even consider such a scenario – her health should begin to fail. Try as he might to remain positive, the possibility continued to loom over him like a black cloud.

His gaze fell upon the thin blanket covering her, and for one agonizing moment, he was unable to detect any trace of movement to indicate that she was indeed still breathing. Panic engulfed him, and he reached for her hand, frantically pressing two fingers to the inside of her wrist. Relief washed over him in waves as he felt the faint but steady pulse beneath his fingertips.

The sudden rush of conflicting emotions left him feeling weak, and his hand shook as he reached for the bottle of rum on the bedside table. He took a long drink, the warmth spreading through his body like a soothing balm. As he set the bottle back down, a soft knock sounded on the door.

"What?" he barked.

The door eased open a bit, and Gibbs' face appeared, barely lit by the early gray light of dawn. "How's she doin'?"

"The same," Jack replied quietly.

Gibbs swallowed, hastily glancing over his shoulder. "Perhaps you should get some air, clear your head a bit."

"No."

"At least take some breakfast, Jack – "

"I said no," Jack stated firmly. In a softer tone, he added, "I won't leave her."

Gibbs nodded, clearly worried, but not wanting to press him further. "If there's anything you need…" His voice trailed off as he realized Jack's eyes had closed. Gibbs sighed and silently shut the door.

Jack barely heard him leave. He opened his eyes and focused on Elizabeth's face. She could have been merely sleeping; her lips were parted slightly, her brow smooth and untroubled. His eyes drifted to her hair, and he unconsciously threaded his fingers gently through the lustrous tawny strands, marveling at their softness.

Suddenly, in his mind's eye, he saw raven tresses, black as midnight against a stark white pillow. He remembered the fits of coughing that had wracked his mother's slender body as she lay dying in the great cabin of his father's ship.

_"Jack," she rasped, a harsh contrast to the lilting, melodious voice he was so used to hearing. She took his small hand in hers." "My little Jack." She squeezed his hand feebly, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "You're going to grow up to be a fine man, strong, intelligent..." She met Teague's eyes. "Like your father." A lone tear traced a path down her cheek as she gazed at Jack fondly, one hand coming up to sweep briefly through his dark curls before falling limply at her side. "I love you," she whispered, her eyes drifting closed. "Always remember that." She drew a shuddering breath, then fell strangely silent, her head lolling to one side._

_ Little Jack frowned, tugging at the sleeve of her nightgown. "Mum?"_

_ He felt Teague's hand on his shoulder. "She's gone, son."_

"No," Jack whispered, returning to the present with a start. He realized his fingers were clenched tightly around the bed sheet, and he deliberately relaxed his grip. He leaned over Elizabeth to tuck the coverlet more securely around her shoulders and was perplexed when a drop of liquid fell on her cheek. Jack tilted his head back, searching the ceiling for holes. Another drop fell, then another. He raised a trembling hand to his own face and was astonished to find that it was damp with tears.

He sagged back into the chair, groping blindly for the rum bottle. He lifted it to his lips and gulped greedily, but for the first time in his life, it brought him no relief. The tears continued to fall soundlessly onto his shirt front, in his hair.

He cursed himself even as the sobs rose within his chest, bitter, unintelligible words springing to his lips as he stumbled to his feet, knocking the chair to the floor. In two quick strides he was at his desk, charts tearing as he furiously snatched up every object within his reach. An inkwell shattered, leaving an angry splotch on the wall as Jack hurled everything his grasping fingers touched across the cabin. He'd never wept, never broken down so completely, not even when his beloved mother had succumbed to consumption when he was nigh on eight years old.

He gradually became aware that he was muttering under his breath, directing an acrimonious torrent of abuse at himself. "Only _weak _men cry," he raged, sending navigational tools clattering to the floor with a mighty shove. "Only the weakest man would allow himself to become so infatuated with a woman that…"

The words died in his throat as he realized what he was now holding in his hand. He lowered his arm, his chest heaving, and stared at the object as if seeing it for the first time. The compass.

_"Why doesn't your compass work?" _Elizabeth had asked him, and there was a sharpness in her tone, an undercurrent of what seemed to be annoyance.

_"My compass works fine," _Jack had assured her.

Truer words were never spoken. Since the day he'd acquired it, that compass had been his most faithful companion, unerring in its accuracy, infallibly guiding him to what he coveted most. Holding it now, feeling its weight in his palm, Jack gingerly opened the lid, as if it were made of the most delicate glass. The arrow rotated clockwise, then counterclockwise, before settling on a direction. Jack held the compass out and followed the arrow's point to where Elizabeth's still form lay in the bed. One corner of his mouth curled upward with a trace of the Jack Sparrow trademark smirk. "What you want most indeed," he murmured, brushing the arrow with his fingertip. "So be it, my friend." He closed the compass with a soft click and crossed the room to kneel by Elizabeth's side. He hesitated for a moment before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "In for a penny, in for a pound," he sighed. "It's all up to you now, love."


	7. Chapter 7

**Here it is, dear readers…the last chapter!**

**Once again, thanks to my dear beta Michelle (Princess of the Pearl) for her assistance in organizing my thoughts on paper (figuratively, of course) and for inspiring me. I'm glad you liked your birthday present!**

**Also, a huge thank you to my husband Anthony, who gave me a wonderful idea for this chapter when I had a terrible case of writer's block. I love you with all my heart. **

Elizabeth's ascent from the murky depths of unconsciousness was arduous and seemingly interminable. Images and snatches of conversation swirled around her, Will's voice and Jack's mingling together. _"…death is a certainty…" "A place between the living and the dead…"_

She forced her eyes open with great effort, the harsh sunlight streaming through the window momentarily blinding her. She winced and tried to massage her aching head, but a pair of warm, strong hands held her own tightly clasped between them.

Elizabeth inclined her head and saw that Jack was asleep in a chair beside the bed, his head on the edge of the mattress, near her thigh. His face was turned toward her, and she could see at once that his slumber was not restful; a frown marred his aristocratic features, his mouth pinched in a tight line. Nevertheless, Elizabeth was strangely fascinated by the sight of Jack, normally so animated and full of swaggering confidence and wild gesticulations, so still and somber. As she watched, he twitched slightly, a long, shuddering sigh escaping from his lips.

"Jack," Elizabeth whispered, but he didn't stir. She tried to wet her lips, but her mouth was parched. "Jack," she tried again, jiggling her hands slightly in his grasp.

"Why is the rum gone?" he mumbled. His frown deepened. "Too quiet…Elizabeth!" His fingers tightened spasmodically, and Elizabeth could feel her bones grinding together. She frantically attempted to yank her hands out of his grip when Jack suddenly sat upright, nearly pulling her with him. She watched as he blinked and raised a hand to his head, clearly shaken by whatever dream had been plaguing his subconscious.

"Jack," Elizabeth whispered again. Jack jumped, his head whipping around to look at her. His eyes grew wide, and for a long moment he simply stared.

"I thought…" he began, then swallowed and shook his head. "Must be a hallucination," he muttered. "At long last, the rum's done me in."

Elizabeth lifted her hand, her slender fingers gently tracing his jaw line. Jack closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation… "Bloody hell!" he yelped as he felt a sharp tug on his chin braids. He rubbed the now throbbing area and glared at her, his lower lip protruding in a slight pout. "What was that for?"

Elizabeth's hand fell heavily to the blanket, and she smirked. "I'm not a hallucination," she rasped.

"You've made that quite obvious, darling," Jack replied dryly, still rubbing his sore chin. The enormity of the situation finally permeated his sleep-fogged brain, and he grasped her shoulders almost painfully. His eyes roamed her face, drinking in every detail. Although her lips were pale and chapped, every blessed breath that warmed Jack's cheek felt like a miracle to him. Her eyes were a bit glazed, but God help him, they were beautiful and open and _alive. _Relief coursed through his veins, and he slumped against her, his cheek pressed to hers, his lips near her ear. "You're alive," he whispered gratefully.

"Crushing…me…" Elizabeth wheezed, pushing weakly against his shoulders.

"Oh!" Jack straightened quickly, overbalancing and nearly toppling over in his haste. "Sorry, love." He pushed his chair back. "Need some water?"

Elizabeth nodded. Jack hurried to a cabinet in the corner, rummaging until he found a tin goblet. Once out on deck, Gibbs was at his side almost immediately.

"Any change?" he queried anxiously.

Jack grinned. "She's awake," he replied. "And thirsty," he added, peering at a barrel over Gibbs' shoulder. "Move," he commanded, fairly shoving him out of the way. Gibbs lost his footing and landed on his backside with a resounding thud.

"Warn a man, why don't ya," he grumbled, but there was a knowing twinkle in his eye as he watched his captain fill the goblet with fresh water and rush back to his cabin.

When Jack returned, Elizabeth's eyes were closed, and his steps halted abruptly, water sloshing over the rim of the cup. "Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth languidly opened her eyes, Jack's panicked expression nearly moving her to tears. "I'm still here."

Jack's heartbeat resumed its normal pace, and he crossed the room to her side, settling on the edge of the mattress. He held the goblet to her lips, and Elizabeth drank heartily, the cool water deliciously soothing to her raw throat.

"Easy, love," Jack cautioned, placing the cup on the bedside table. "We don't want your stomach to rebel." He wrinkled his nose as though the very thought offended his senses.

Elizabeth started to laugh, then grimaced, her hand inching toward her wound. Jack's fingers closed around her wrist. "Don't touch it." A tiny smile appeared on his lips. "And try not to laugh. As much as I'm glad to hear it, you don't want the stitches to pull loose."

Elizabeth nodded. "How long have I been unconscious?" Watching Jack's face, she noted for the first time since she'd awakened how exhausted he looked, fear and worry etched in the fine lines in his forehead and around his mouth.

"Not sure," he replied wearily, the tension and anxiety of his nighttime vigil still close at hand. "Nearly twelve hours, I suppose."

"Twelve hours," Elizabeth repeated quietly. Her brow furrowed as the memory of a bizarre dream began to tease the edges of her mind. The details were tantalizingly close, but the harder she attempted to latch onto them, the faster they seemed to evaporate. She shook herself, returning her attention to Jack. His head was bowed, his fingers busily pleating the blanket. "It's not your fault, Jack."

Jack reluctantly met her gaze, and the guilt and sorrow in his eyes nearly broke her heart. "I could have – "

"What?" Elizabeth interrupted. "Protected me? You know as well as I that I don't need protecting. It was _my _choice to become a pirate, and" - she gave him a haughty smile – "_I am always mindful of the consequences of my actions."_

Jack's eyes narrowed and he leaned close, jabbing a finger toward her nose. "You know, you have an infuriating habit of tossing my own words back in my face when I least expect it." Despite his fierce expression, his lips quivered, and Elizabeth knew he was trying to suppress a smile.

She angled her head so that they were nose to nose. "Pirate," she whispered tauntingly. Time seemed to stop then, until all Elizabeth was aware of was the sound of her own labored breathing and her heart pounding in her ears. The corners of Jack's mouth slowly curved upward in an approving smirk.

"Touché," he whispered back before lowering his mouth to hers.

The kiss was not entirely unexpected; nonetheless, Elizabeth was completely unprepared for the joy and desire that blossomed within her the instant Jack's lips touched hers. He kissed her leisurely, gently maneuvering her back against the pillows, careful not to rest all his weight upon her. His lips moved from her mouth to her cheek, then to the delicate skin of her throat. "I don't know what I would've done if…" He swallowed, then sighed against her hair. "Lizzie," he murmured, "I may be experienced in many things, but love is something I've never truly known."

Elizabeth nearly gasped as her dream came rushing back to her in its entirety. _It _wasn't_ a dream, _she realized, tears springing to her eyes as she reflected on Will's veritable selflessness. _He was genuinely there with me. _She recalled every element with startling clarity, the most vivid of all being her bittersweet exchange with Will near the stream. _"There is another man who loves you, as much as a man who has never known love can." _

"Love is a wondrous thing," she said, caressing the back of his neck. "The most wondrous thing in the world."

Jack's lips brushed her ear, feather light. "I'd never want to lose you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth cradled his face in her palms and drew his head up so she could look into his eyes. The love she saw reflected there took her breath away. "Then you won't," she said firmly as their lips met in another sweet kiss.

Two hours later, Elizabeth was beginning to feel restless. Jack hadn't left her side for a minute, and though she was appreciative of his attention, she longed for fresh air. "I want to go outside," she announced when he brought her a fresh glass of water.

"I know you do, love, but you need some time to heal – "

Elizabeth crossed her arms and exhaled noisily. "Jack, I'm going to wither away cooped up in this stuffy cabin."

Jack raised his eyebrows. He was well aware of Elizabeth's stubborn streak, and he knew when she wanted something, it wasn't exactly in one's best interest to stand in her way.

Elizabeth glanced toward the window, tracing a pane of glass with her fingertip, the waning sunlight creating incandescent highlights in her hair. "Please, Jack. Just to feel the wind on my face for a few moments…"

Jack softened immediately. _She'll be the death of me yet, _he thought, shaking his head ruefully. He doubted he'd ever be able to say no to her. He strode to the bed and gingerly lifted her in his arms.

Elizabeth's arms wound about his neck for balance, and she gazed up at him in surprise. "I can walk, I assure you," she said wryly.

"I'm not taking any chances," Jack replied, kicking the cabin door open with the heel of his boot. As they passed Pintel and Raghetti, Elizabeth noticed Jack swipe something from Pintel's hand, though she couldn't quite make out what it was. Once they reached the _Pearl's _stern, Jack set her delicately on her feet.

"We're just in time for the sunset," Elizabeth observed, taking deep breaths of the tangy air.

As the glowing orange orb sank into the sea, a brilliant burst of light illuminated the sky. "The green flash," Jack commented. "A rare phenomenon, but I have seen it a few times in my years at sea."

"I've seen it once," Elizabeth replied quietly.

"It's been said it occurs when a soul escapes the land of the dead." Jack's tone was light, but when Elizabeth's eyes met his, she saw that they were heavy with meaning.

"Maybe it's Will's way of giving us his blessing."

Jack wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, mindful of her stitches. "Perhaps," he agreed, chuckling. "The boy always did have a flair for the dramatic."

Elizabeth laughed, and despite her injury, she felt lighthearted. "Only after he met you."

Jack grinned and held out a bottle of rum with his free hand. "Bored?" he asked, his fond gaze warming her from head to toe.

Elizabeth accepted the bottle and grinned back. "Never."


End file.
